The soft click of the door closing still echoed in Rachael's ears as she sat silently on the corner of her bed. The morning light spilled through the curtains, brushing the edges of her blanket, warming nothing. Her mother's voice faded down the hall, and the house fell back into quiet.
That dream still clung to her like a second skin. The towering castle, the breathing walls, the way it all crumbled back into that house—that house. It wasn't just a place anymore. It had become something else. Something alive. Something that watched.
Catherine's sudden burst into the room cracked the silence like glass. "Hey, Rachael! You're still not ready? Come on, it's the last day of college!"
Rachael rubbed her eyes, dragging herself up from bed. "Yeah, I know... I'm just tired. Didn't sleep again. I had that dream. The house one."
Catherine rolled her eyes in her usual playful way, nudging Rachael toward the bathroom. "We'll talk about your creepy little dream on the way, I promise. Now move!"
As Rachael brushed her teeth, the cold porcelain beneath her hands steadied her. The routine helped. Something normal to ground herself. Through the door, Catherine chattered as she rifled through Rachael's wardrobe, pulling out a crisp white shirt and black trousers. "Wear this. It suits your 'I'm too mysterious for the world' vibe."
Rachael smiled faintly. "You're the mysterious one, always borrowing my books like you're gonna unlock the secrets of the universe."
"I am the universe," Catherine smirked, holding up a Harry Potter book from Rachael's shelf.
"This one's coming with me."
"Take it," Rachael called, stepping out of the bathroom and drying her face. "Just don't fall in love with Voldemort."
Catherine laughed, already tucking the book into her bag. Rachael slipped into her coat, pulling the white bucket hat snugly over her head. She tied her hair in a neat ponytail and glanced in the mirror. The face staring back at her looked… off. Not different. Just distant. Like she hadn't come back fully from the dream.
They sat at the dining table where her mother had left breakfast waiting—omelets, toast, and a glass of fresh orange juice. Her mother had always tried to keep mornings bright, even when grief still echoed through the walls of the house.
As they ate, Rachael's thoughts drifted again.
To her father.
To that final memory—the drive to the lake, the smell of sandwiches, the warmth of her father's voice singing "Here Comes the Sun." That moment of peace, frozen in time. And then the crash. The screaming metal. The sharp light of sirens. Her mother sobbing in the hospital bed beside hers, clutching her hand like it was the only thing still keeping her tethered to life.
That's when it began.
The dreams. The whispers. The house.
They never fully left her after that day.
On the walk to college, Catherine kept the conversation light, but Rachael couldn't hold it in anymore. "I had the dream again last night," she said quietly. "The house… it changed. It's not just there anymore. It's in other places. Like it's spreading. I felt it in the castle. Then the castle became the house."
Catherine sighed. "Rach, I love you, but you've always had an overactive imagination. That house is just a creepy place on the edge of town. Every town has one."
Rachael shook her head. "No. It's different. I think… it's following me."
"Then why doesn't it follow anyone else?" Catherine teased with a grin.
But just as Rachael opened her mouth to answer, her gaze flicked to the trees beyond the road—and there it was again.
The deer.
Blue eyes like glass, staring right at her from between the trees. Unmoving. Knowing.
Then—gone.
Gone in a blink.
She didn't say a word.
Catherine wouldn't understand. Not yet.
The rest of the day passed like a slow blur. College was buzzing with end-of-year excitement, but to Rachael it felt hollow. The world was bright and loud on the surface, but underneath it all, she could feel something pulling at her. Tightly. Quietly. Like a thread around her heart.
That night, sleep did not come easily.
She tossed and turned, the blankets twisted, her skin too hot, then too cold. Her window creaked once in the wind, and she sat up suddenly, staring into the dark.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then she heard it.
That same whisper.